OTS1: The Death Cure (alternate ending)
by shivakantha
Summary: An alternate ending to The Death Cure. Teresa lives, as does ... a certain crank-shank. Will be continued in the sequel, "The Second Chance".
1. Chapter 72

"He's dead!" Brenda yelled from behind her, pulling on her arm. "He's dead! We need to go!"

Teresa took one last look at the man to ensure he was, indeed, dead. She got to her feet and ran towards the maintenance room, pulling Brenda along, who had broken her leg in the combat. She glanced around her. Thomas was still strangling Janson's corpse, but Minho was pulling him to his feet. Gally's leg was bleeding, but Jorge was pulling him along as he ran.

Deafening explosions rocked the sides of the storage room. Brenda fell; Teresa jerked her to her feet. A few seconds later, Teresa fell; Brenda helped her up. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Thomas dragging Minho as they broke into a run.

Another splintering, shattering noise reverberated through the air, sending Minho leaping forwards and slamming his body onto the floor. She saw Thomas turn backwards, staring at the ceiling, his feet rooted to the floor. Why was he doing that? Teresa glanced upwards. A massive chunk of ceiling had torn loose and was falling toward him.

Brenda had stopped abruptly, her face pale with horror.

Teresa had no choice. _She moved_.She loossened her grip from Brenda's arm and broke into a sprint towards Thomas. Just when the chunk was half a metre above his head, her body slammed into his, sending him stumbling into the maintenance room, as the piece of building landed on top of her, pinning her waist down onto the floor.

"Teresa!" Thomas screamed back at her. Realising he still cared about her lifted her spirits. Until she realised what was happening. Until she realised she was going to die.

Teresa couldn't hear him, but knew his lips well enough to decipher what he was saying. "I'm so sorry, I'm so, so, sorry," he repeated.

"Me … too," she whispered back. "I only ever … cared for … you."

Then Thomas was being pulled away by Minho and Brenda. They all believed– they all knew she was hopeless.

Her vision blurred, but she made out Thomas breaking free of their grip, running back to her, trying to pry the chunk of ceiling off. Why was he doing that? Didn't he know, that she was hopeless? Another explosion rocked the air, and a huge chunk of ceiling crashed into the ground, hardly two metres behind Thomas. He was going to die, too, if he stayed there any longer. Why did he have to waste her sacrifice?

She summoned every last ounce of energy in her body to whisper, "Just … leave … me."

"Shut up!" Thomas yelled back at her. Then he spoke in a slightly softer voice. "Stop wasting your energy." He somehow managed to pry the chunk off her, lifting her into his arms. Minho ran back, Brenda on his heels, to help Thomas carry her. They all knew she was going to die, she thought. They were just trying to prevent Thomas from wasting any more time in a collapsing world. To prevent him from throwing more lives into the already hopeless situation.

She was on the edge of consciousness when she realised she was being carried forward, towards the Flat Trans. Maybe she would survive, after all. But then another explosion shattered the ceiling above her, sending reinforcement bars and pieces of concrete falling towards them. The world was collapsing around the four of them.

And then she felt a strong push on her body, sending them tumbling through the Flat Trans. Minho shouting, Brenda falling. Thomas was falling too, but … in the other direction? Tom!

She thought she heard Thomas shouting something, telling them to never close the Flat Trans. She could sense the finality in his statement. _Never_ close the Flat Trans. She realised he was saying his last words. She wanted to shout, tell them to rescue Thomas, but it only came out as a gurgling groan. She passed out, more from the shock, than from the pain.

He had wasted her sacrifice.


	2. Chapter 73

Thomas woke up to the sight of calm sunlight filtering through the canopy of trees. He felt a soft material beneath his head and body. Grass. Over his face was a bright blue sky, and at the corner of his vision, he could see a lining of a lush green canopy of trees. So he had made it through the Flat Trans, had he?

"Thomas." A familiar voice. Minho. "Wake up, dude."

He felt the presence of his own hands and moved them around, brushing the soft grass beneath him. It took some strength to push on it, but he managed to push himself up straight. He found himself leaning against a tree, wrapping his arms around his knees. He squinted at the three figures sitting around him.

Minho. Brenda. Frypan. In the distance, he could see the flat trans they had entered through. Chunks of concrete were deposited around it, as well as the metal rod that he thought had killed him. He noticed a kid, who couldn't be more than nine years old, bouncing a ball against what appeared to be a force field around the flat trans.

"How … how the … ?" he couldn't grasp the right words. "Am I alive?"

Minho was first to speak. "You've been shucked and gone to heaven." He snickered. "What, you thought we were going to let you die and sacrifice yourself for us? Always wanna be the shuck hero, don't ya?" Another snicker. "We yanked you out of the flat trans after you passed out."

Thomas didn't hear him. His thoughts could only focus on one thing.

"Teresa?", looking at Minho, then at Brenda. He felt a pang of fear as he anticipated the answer. "Is she–"

Minho cut him off with his trademark snicker, sending relief flooding through Thomas. "Your girlfriend's fine. Don't worry."

Brenda spoke. "She's alive. She's comatose, but she's getting better. She has some serious injuries, though. We managed to take her there before it was too late," she pointed to a whitewashed triple-storey building within a walled garden and an elaborately designed gate. Elegantly inscribed on the wall of the building was the word, "Hospital", in blue, thin Roboto.

"Hospital? How long was I unconscious for?" he asked. "20 minutes, shuckface." Minho replied. Thomas stared blankly at him. "You … you guys built a shuck hospital in 20 minutes?" He shook his head. "This is weirder than WICKED's holotech."

"We didn't build it. Chancellor Paige - she got some basic necessities for us when we got here. Basic housing, medical care, fresh clothes. They got some doctors to come here before us. Hans is there too." Brenda replied.

"Okay, okay, whatever. Just take me to Teresa." he had already got to his feet and started walking towards the building. The three of them followed him.

Brenda led the way, up two flights of stairs, down an aisle, and into an air-conditioned room.

A woman sat next to a bed, looking at a holographic display. Thomas looked at the bed, where Teresa laid on her back, eyes closed.

Thomas couldn't hide his anxiety. "Teresa?" he whispered, perhaps a bit too loudly, given the environment. The nurse shushed him, "Be quiet. She's getting better. She might wake up any time now."

Relief flooded him. Teresa was okay. Or at least, alive. Thomas pulled a chair next to Teresa's lifeless body. He pressed his palms against each other, begging feverishly _. Please wake up. Please. I won't say a word about you trying to kill yourself for me_. He tried to think into her head, despite knowing she wouldn't hear it. His friends stood behind him, their faces unreadable. An hour passed. Two. He didn't move an inch from his position, leaning over Teresa's lifeless body, begging her to wake up.

The nurse broke the silence. "She should have been awake by now. I'm not sure what's wrong."

"Maybe she's asleep?" Thomas asked, trying to hide his fear – maybe she was completely immobilised. What if her spine had suffered some serious damage? "Teresa? We're safe now. Please, wake up." He felt the tremor in his voice.

Teresa's eyes fluttered open. All his thoughts turned into simple joy. He searched his mind for words. "Teresa? You all right?" It wasn't the most clever question to ask at that point.

Teresa looked confused. Her eyes darted across the room, at the nurse, and then to Thomas. She pushed her hands against the bed, pulling herself towards the wall behind her. "What … who … where am I? Who are you all? What's going on?"

Thomas felt his heart skip a beat. "Teresa? It's me, Thomas. Tom." He waved his arms in front of her, grasping onto the hope that her vision had just become a little fuzzy as she came out of her coma.

She stared at him for a few seconds, then shook her head. "I don't know you."


	3. Chapter 74

Thomas felt the world crash down on him. She really had lost her memory. Again.

"Guess I'm just glad you're alive, then." He sighed. "I'm Thomas. Nice to meet you." He unknowingly jabbed sarcasm into his voice, immediately feeling guilty for doing so.

Minho spoke, the first time since they'd entered the room. "Looks like WICKED found an way easier way to swipe people's memories." He snorted. "Just drop a shuck chunk of rock on your head."

"It's not her–" Thomas started, but then he stopped. Something from Minho's words made it click in him. Nothing had fallen on her _head_. Her head wasn't even slightly bruised. Unless immunes stored memory in the spinal cord, Teresa couldn't possibly have lost her memory. And if there was one thing he'd learnt from the _betrayal_ at the Scorch, it was that Teresa was a great actor.

He looked at Teresa. "Not a great time for jokes, Teresa. Nothing fell on your _head_. Your memory is fine."

Teresa stared at him for a few seconds, her face putting on a blank expression. And then she smiled, but didn't say anything.

Thomas leaned back into his chair. "Seriously?" He blinked slowly, then shook his head in disbelief. He returned his gaze to her. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I love getting my spine crushed under a chunk of falling ceiling."

Thomas noticed a smile had broken across his face. "At least you're alive."

"Yeah, you too."

Thomas reached for her hand and squeezed it. He felt guilty for having taken until her almost-death to forgive her.

 _Teresa?_ he called to her in his mind, only to realise it wouldn't work any longer.

To his surprise, it did. _This still works?_ she replied.

 _Woah. Even I had part of the Swipe removed in Denver. How do you think this still works?_

 _I don't know_. She paused. _I have some faint memories of the original creators having placed a backup of the telepathy router, or something like that. I think it went undocumented. None of the current WICKED staff would know anything._

 _Hm._ He gathered his thoughts. _Teresa? I'm still not going to forgive you for what you did in the Scorch._

He sensed a mental sigh from her. _I guess I knew that. But did you need to bring that up now?_

He smiled. _There's nothing I've got to forgive you for, Teresa. I … I'm sorry. I should be thanking you, begging you to forgive me for being so irrational and stubborn. I'm sorry. And thank you. For saving my life more times than I can count._

It felt good to push that off his chest. And then Thomas realised, that he really _had_ been wanting to forgive her - it felt as if something foreign, something stuck in his brain, was forbidding it. He couldn't help but think that WICKED had something to do with it.

A look of surprise formed on her face, but it soon melted into a bare smile.

He was jolted out of his thoughts by a fake groan from Minho. "So we still aren't gonna be spared from your voodoo klunk, are we?"

"Not as long as our brains are intact," Thomas replied with a smirk.

He heard some snores, and looked up to see the nurse sound asleep. He turned his head around to send a fake glare to his friends. "Real useful nurse you found."

Shaking his head, he turned around to see Teresa groaning, clutching her back. "You okay?" he asked. Teresa ignored his question and scooted on the bed, seemingly without direction. She dragged her feet off the soft hospital bed and clambered them onto the floor. She tried to stand up, but fell back, releasing a painful shriek.

 _Teresa, what happened?_ Thomas yelled in her head. She shook her head, rubbing at the side of her back. "I'm … fine."

The nurse happened to be jolted out of her sleep at hearing the commotion. "I'm … sorry." She mumbled, looking embarassed. "What happened?"

"Nothing. Nothing besides what would happen if the nurse falls asleep in the freaking ICU." Minho muttered a bit too loudly.

The nurse walked over to Teresa, who was wincing in pain. "Are you alright?" She glanced into a holographic display that displayed some readings which Thomas couldn't comprehend, nor understand how they were being measured.

Teresa just nodded at first, but then spoke. "Yeah, I'm alright. I think I can't stand without feeling a dynamite explode in my spine."

The nurse's glance fell to the floor for a second, and her eyes showed genuine concern. "I'm sorry, Ms–, but your sacral vertebrae have been considerably weakened. Your spine has surprisingly not been damaged, so your reflexes will be alright. We cannot say for sure if you'll ever be able to walk again."


	4. Chapter 75

Thomas's eyes shot up and widened in shock at the last sentence. The thought of Teresa being limp for life sent a sharp pain down his spine, and guilt racked him, for he felt responsible for it. Teresa's gaze met his, trying to comfort him with a weak smile. She nodded absently as her gaze fell toward the floor again.

 _Tom, slim it._

 _Slim it? You probably won't be able to walk again. Because of me. Because you_ –

 _Shut up, Thomas._

 _Huh?_

 _You would have done the same thing for me._

He didn't respond.

 _I_ know _you did it. Tried to kill yourself, pushing me through the flat trans._

His eyes shot up to meet her gaze. "You were conscious, then?"

"Sort of." She paused. "I'll be fine."

He replied in her head. _Yeah, I don't really trust a word this nurse says. That slinthead was snoring when you woke up._ He felt her send him a mental smirk. He continued. _Yeah, I think you're going to be fine. After battling grievers and cranks, bulb monsters and guards, a piece of shuck ceiling isn't going to do anything to you._

He was trying to comfort her, but he really did believe what he had just said. Something told him she would be fine. Maybe it was the telepathy link - it communicated more than just thoughts, maybe it was the fact that she _could_ almost-stand, it was just very painful. Whatever it was, somehow, he knew she would be fine.

Later that afternoon, Thomas trudged on the ground, Teresa by his side, her crutches making a clicking noise as they hit the ground. The nurse had said that some strolling wouldn't hurt, and could even help the recovery, if recovery were possible. Thomas had given the excuse of exploring the forest for food, but he really just wanted to spend some time with Teresa. Apologise to her. Thank her for trying to save his life in the Scorch. Reprimand her for trying to sacrifice herself for him.

"You think we need to rescue some servers from WICKED?" Thomas asked. "For our telepathy thing?"

"It's done via Bluetooth," Teresa replied, smiling slightly. "Don't worry, you can always talk in my head."

They eventually reached the edge of the cliff their settlement apparently sat on. Thomas held his arm out to steady Teresa. They stopped and sat down, enjoying the peace and tranquility. The time in the Glade seemed like an eternity ago. His impossible pestering of the Gladers, trying to get answers, how badly he had wanted to be a Runner, the first Gathering that he had attended. Back then, they had safety, but no freedom. In the Scorch, they had freedom, but no safety. The worst times were when they had neither safety, nor freedom. When the doors didn't close in the Glade, when kidnapped by Blondie and the cranks in the Scorch, spending the night in the maze, running around with head-eating silver balls in the underground tunnels … those where the worst times he had experienced in his short life so far.

Now having both freedom and safety … it was a completely new experience. Of course, they had experienced the same, twice before, both times between trials. In the dorm, after escaping the Maze. In the Berg, after leaving the Scorch. The last time Ava Paige had spoke to them was upon their escape from the Maze, and then they had been lied to. Could he trust her this time? The thought worried him, but something told him they were safe now. Truly safe.

They spent a few minutes enjoying the peace and tranquility. Finally, Thomas broke the silence. "Teresa, I … I'm sorry. Really sorry. For having taken so long to trust you again. For having taken until you almost sacrificed your life." She turned to look at him, gave him a bare smile and a nod, telling him with her eyes that she understood, and rested her head on his shoulder.

He continued. "I don't know how or what, but it seemed like some stupid thing in my brain was obstructing my rational thoughts, making me do stupid things, ever since I entered the Scorch. It began to finally wear off upon the conclusion of Phase 3. I think it's finally gone for good, now."

"I think not." she smirked. "Seriously, Tom. What kind of a shuck idiot are you? Who the shucking hell welcomes with open arms, a chunk of shuck ceiling falling on your shuck head?"

He ran a hand through her hair and brushed his face across her hair to kiss the top of her head. "Well, it's definitely better than running right into one."

She looked up, meeting his gaze. "I did it to save you, Tom." She sighed. "I would still not have regretted that, even if I were dead right now."

Thomas felt something lodge in his throat. "Just don't do that again, Teresa. Please."

"No promises." she replied, grinning.

He forced a pathetic laugh. "Well, we're safe now. Just don't fall off a cliff, or get eaten by a wild animal. Probably the worst things we'll encounter here."

Teresa snickered at that. "Not that those are completely normal things to encounter for children our age."

He didn't reply to that. He knew should have felt proud at having achieved something nobody else did. Sad that he missed a normal childhood. Desire to find out how a normal childhood felt. But he felt none of that. To him, almost-dead situations had become the norm. The sudden safety almost made him feel uneasy. There were no Cranks. Nobody trying to pry his brain out. No biotech wonders specially designed by WICKED, hungry for his blood. The surprisingly pleasant weather, in a time after the sun flares. He saw the sea extend into the distance. They had freedom.


	5. Epilogue

WICKED Memorandum, Date 232.4.10, Time 12:45

TO: My Associates

FROM: Ava Paige, Chancellor

RE: A new beginning

And so, we have failed.

But we have also succeeded.

Our original vision didn't come to fruition; we were unable to discover a cuure for the Flare. But I anticipated this outcome and put into place an alternate solution, to save at least a portion of our race. If all has gone according to plan, we have sent some of our brightest, toughest, and most resilient of our subjects to a safe place, where they can begin civilisation anew, while the rest of the human race is driven to extinction.

I know the majority of WICKED thought that we need to get tougher, dig deeper, be more ruthless with our subjects, keep searching for an answer. Begin a new round of the Trials. But what we neglected to see was right before our eyes. The Immune are the only resource left to this world.

For years, we have been studying the immunes, seeing what makes them different from the rest.

But the key to immunity lies not in the subject's Killzone, but in the first virus to infect them.

We cannot cure the Flare. We can only immunise the uninfected. The only people who have any chance of recovering from the Flare are the non-immunes born to immune parents, as was with the mysterious _Bullet cure_ case, in which one of our control subjects was cured by a bullet to the killzone.

The Denver disaster has spurred hundreds of such movements across the world. Cranks uniting to escape, to loot and plunder, destroy and murder. The human race has succumbed to the Flare.

It is my hope that over the years our organisation has in some part paid the price for the unspeakable act committed against humanity by our predecessors in government. Though I am fully aware that it was an act of desperation after the solar flares, releasing the Flare as a means of population control was a miscalculated and badly planned measure, an abhorrent and irreversible crime. And the disastrous results could never be predicted. WICKED has worked ever since that act was committed, to right that wrong. To save the human race, at any cost.

And at this, we have succeeded.

I do not know how history will judge our actions, but I state here for the record, that the organisation has only ever had one goal. To save the human race, at any cost.

And for this sole reason, WICKED was good.

BEGINNING OF TRANSCRIPT

Newton: The bloody. There's a bloody afterlife? In a shuck hospital? You, I've seen you before.

Ava: I'm Ex-Chancellor Ava Paige.

Newton: Chancellor … of WICKED? I'm supposed be dead! I'm supposed to be bloody dead! Tommy shot me! I made him shoot me! I'm shucking dead! _And_ I'm a Crank.

Ava: Calm down, Newton. Whoever shot you, they cured you. And the bullet was stopped by the Flare's cocoon.

Newton: The bullet saved me from the Flare, and the Flare saved me from the bullet. Bloody interesting.

Ava: Pretty much. You are a special case of a non-immune, because both your biological parents were immune. The Flare's cocoon is relatively easily separable from the killzone, and it doesn't cause irreparable damage to the brain.

Newton: Where are my friends?

Ava: They've been sent to a safe place, unaffected of the Flare and of the solar flares. Would you like to join them?

Newton: Yeah.

Ava: Would you like your memories back?

Newton: Why should I trust you?

Ava: If it helps, because I saved your life, and because the rest of your friends trust me. WICKED is finished, Newton. We couldn't find a cure. It's in the news. The trials are over. And the other reason… the other reason you'll find out upon getting your memories back. I think you should learn for yourself, son.

Newton: Son?

Ava: Would you like your memories back?

Newton: Yeah.

END OF TRANSCRIPT

 **Author's Note:**

 **Sequel: The Second Chance [s/11419764]**


End file.
